Deconstruction
by Yuja
Summary: [Season 13, The End] When Epsilon entered the world, he was a nightmare. An abomination of modern technological science. But then he grew to be more, just in time for him and the crew to crash land in the middle of a civil war. Who could have ever imagined the glorified recycle bin for the Director's fancy computer would grow up to be a hero.


Would someone tell the ninjas to stop cutting onions, please?

Another Fit of Feels story, this time set at the end of Season 13, meaning spoilers abound. This also covers most of Epsilon's (currently known) existence, and swearing, because Church. Yes, I am in denial. Why do you ask?

* * *

 **Deconstruction**

* * *

 _ **So you send your men. They won't find themselves a fight. They'll only find an old man. An old man tired, but satisfied he did his duty. An old man weary from a mind more filled with memory, than it is with hope.**_

* * *

When Epsilon entered the world, he was a nightmare: an abomination of modern technological science. Little more than a compilation of rejected memories, he had no memories or personality to call his own. Was it really any wonder why he had tried to kill himself, consequences be damned? He was the discarded byproduct of a tortured mind in a last ditch effort to stay sane, after all. A glorified recycle bin for the Director's fancy computer, that was him. Why not empty that bin once and for all?

Of course, leave it to the Director to not only torture his virtual copy, but to then also take the insane, suicidal result and lock it away in sleep mode. And leave it to Wash and Carolina to not leave well enough alone. They were exactly like the Director in that regard. Leave Epsilon contained long enough, and he could serve as the perfect, negligible means to an end.

Caboose, for all his childish idiocy, had been the first to ever think of Epsilon as a conscious being. Sure, he called Epsilon "Church," and apparently thought of him as being one in the same as the by then fried Alpha, but for the first time since his creation, Epsilon had something other than past horrors to occupy his thoughts. Caboose told him stories about their life as blue soldiers, and was very insistent on the fact that they were best friends. Whether any of it was true or not didn't matter to Epsilon. There was an ominous fog lingering at the back of his code. The years of containment had pushed those files of memories down, and the more Caboose talked, the more Epsilon could continue to bury the old data.

Then Caboose transferred him from the memory unit and into a random piece of alien tech, and wonder of wonders, Epsilon was granted a voice. And a laser face! But mostly he cared about the voice. And, oh, the _mobility_! For the first time, he could directly interact with the world around him. For the first time, he could actively begin to form memories and experiences and a personality to call his own. At long last, he could begin to distinguish himself as a being separate from the Alpha; separate from the Director. He could take on the title of "Church," and know the soldiers were referring to him directly, not his predecessors of the same name. He had his own memories now. His predecessors would never have _this_.

Tucker had the most difficulty with accepting the change, but Epsilon could hardly blame the guy. The person Tucker had known as Church had died while Tucker was busy fighting in a god forsaken desert. And Caboose had conveniently left out any memories involving the teal soldier, meaning Epsilon and Tucker had a virtually clean slate between them. Still, Tucker was willing to distinguish Epsilon as separate from Alpha. He didn't hold it against the fragment for taking the place of the original within the group. Epsilon was silently grateful.

Epsilon was also tired. He was tired of memories. He could chase after Tex for eternity, and he very nearly proved it when he followed her into the failing memory unit. But he wasn't the Director. He was Epsilon, and within the memories, he had finally figured out what the Director never could.

He let her go.

He let her go.

…

Of course, leave it to Carolina to come along and _fuck that whole plan up_. He had already failed once to kill himself, and now he had failed to simply lay down and die. God damn, could the universe not just let him go in peace? Did he mention Carolina couldn't leave well enough alone? Because damn her, she could not leave well enough alone.

Then again, maybe it was a lucky thing she couldn't. Not yet, in any case.

Carolina had her own memories to face. Her own demons. And maybe Epsilon owed it to her and Wash for being one of those demons. It was while he was making it up to them that a new realization hit him: at some point in the chaos, he had stopped seeing the sim troopers as merely the people he was supposed to know but didn't. He had stopped seeing them simply as possible would-be friends. At some point, they had become more. At some point, they had become his family. And in helping them, he found he was also helping himself.

Seeing the Director again brought Epsilon face-to-face with a realization he hadn't known he needed. Epsilon was more. Epsilon was better. It was time for him and Carolina to stop letting the past define them. It was time to let go.

Maybe the whole "living" thing wasn't so bad after all. Epsilon had friends. He had family. He had purpose. And soon, they would have a place to call home. Maybe things really would turn out alright for all of them.

...

...

Or maybe Epsilon needed to learn when to shut up and stop jinxing shit.

A war. Of all the things to happen, they had crashed into the middle of a goddamn civil war. But hey, they could wing it like always and get through. No problem. They could do this and then carry on as planned. They would be alright.

Oh, did the universe forget to mention there was also a bounty on their heads, and two mercs with an army of criminals who were more than happy to oblige? Right. Damn.

As strange as it was to admit, in all the insanity of war, it was Doyle who made Epsilon realize what he hadn't. Or maybe he had been trying to ignore it.

Things weren't going to turn out alright for _all_ of them. Not this time.

He was himself. He was Epsilon. And yet… he and the Alpha had always possessed something in common: memory. Memory had set them apart from the Director. The Director had wallowed in the past; wallowed in his memories. It was his end. For the Alpha and for Epsilon, memory had built the foundation of who they both were. It was their beginning. They had learned, and they had grown. They had the hope needed to move forward. More than that, they…

"See you on the other side, Church."

As the world froze around them, Epsilon simulated a sigh.

More than memories and hope… they had faith in a band of crazy, misfit, colorful simulation troopers.

"Not this time, buddy."

 _I am a mother fuckin' ghost._

They had faith that a sacrifice would make a difference.

 _When you die, you had better be damn sure that those you leave behind can carry on without you. I know I am._

They had faith that their family would survive.

 _Take the info. It's not complete but it'll get them started._

They had faith, and it was okay if they would never know.

 _I wish she could've learned to let things go. I guess I should too._

Because the hero never gets to see the happy ending.

 _It's just part of what makes us human._

The hero never knows if the day was saved.

 _I hate goodbyes._

The hero just had to have faith.

...

...

Ain't that a bitch.

* * *

 **The End**


End file.
